


What Death Giveth, Death Taketh

by Arikethtae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Female Harry Potter, Multi, inspired by Black Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 23:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arikethtae/pseuds/Arikethtae
Summary: They had been together through a thousand lives. Their souls bound together by the Old Gods; their union both blessed and cursed. After all, nobody could make a deal with the Devil and come out unscathed.With Lily Potter’s blood sealing their destiny, they would come together again and again until their union completed. Each time Tom had been ripped from her before the final sacrifice could be made but no more. She was determined to keep him this time. Not even death would separate them.In this case, Death was only the beginning. The only question is whether her sanity can survive the lengths Harry will have to go to have Tom back in her arms - for eternity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Multiple Genderbends (Harry is female but reincarnations can be M/M, F/M, F/F), Violence, Murder, Brief Mentions of Suicide, Brief Mentions of Past Child Abuse, A Not So Gentle Spiral into Insanity, Brief Mentions of Cannibalism, Blood Rituals, and Sacrificial Cannibalism
> 
> Additional Notes: Thanks so much to my lovely beta who managed exams and editing this beast. This couldn't have happened without the lovely hookedonthesky ❤️

Harry snapped out of her daze, her cheeks flushed as she was reprimanded. The sharp sounds of angry Russian cut through her daydreams like a well-buttered knife. Lately, it had been getting harder and harder to focus. Her form hadn't yet began to fail her but whispers were passing through the company regarding her preoccupation.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. Her distraction was inevitable. Dreams plagued her, even in her waking moments. Her mind lost itself to the endless montage that overtook her whenever her eyes dared to close. Even if it was only for a moment.

A flinch overtook her as her instructor was suddenly in her face. Stray spittle made her flinch once more at the snarled malcontent that she was being confronted with. Sniggers filled the air as she flushed darker.

"You bumbling imbecile! Why I wasted any time on you, I do not know. If you cannot get your head out of the clouds, what is the use of coming to practice! Again!"

Harry should be used to this by now, but every time Umbridge yelled at her she flashed back to her childhood. The only thing that had saved her from the horror was her talent, and Umbridge's desire to regain her title as renowned _premier maître de ballet. _However, Umbridge's faith in her talent was easily lost.

She had fought hard for her spot as prima ballerina. Harry had had nothing before coming to the Perditis Company; she had been no one. It was her ability to move that had granted her admittance. Her fellow dancers possessed the money and the time to cultivate skill, while she was forced to rely on raw unadulterated passion.

There were whispers that someday she would be _prima ballerina assoluta_. The rumors did nothing to redeem her in the eyes of her fellows, instead isolating her.

Some days she wished she had decided to forgo the company and Umbridge's urging. While she had been saved from an early death, she was still trapped. Only this time, her future was already sold. At least until she messed it up.

Once more, she flinched as the thin stick with which Umbridge preferred to carry out her perverse sense of judgement slammed against the back of her thighs. Her skin paling as she struggled to breathe. She had earned this with her inattention; she deserved this. After all, she owed Umbridge everything.

Instead of crying, Harry nodded numbly as the rest of the company was directed to leave.

Her feet automatically slid into place as Umbridge began to call out positions.

"Développé, à la seconde, penché, pas de chat, plié, pirouette_..._"

Over and over again, her voice growing louder as she called out positions.

Harry's body ached but she kept pushing. Her form perfect but wavering as fatigue threatened to drag her down. Her desperation to please causing her mind to vanish once more into the ether.

Green eyes slid closed and she begged the gods for mercy, her body twisting to a melody only she could hear. Umbridge's screeching died out as she lost herself in the movements.

A tickle of a memory crossed her mind like the careful touch of a practiced lover. The hazy vision of a life she must have lived but didn't quite remember, demanding to be recognized. Her solace came as she continued to spin; the world melting away as she was submerged into another life and another her.

Time blending with a turn of her legs; toes outstretched as reality disintegrated around her. She was no longer a commoner but a queen. She sat upon a jeweled throne; her back straight and tension radiating through her fingertips.

_Her father was bent before her, his eyes downcast. There was a tremble of pride as it was forced down. His knees no doubt aching as she refused to recognize him. A delicate cough curled her lip momentarily before she bid him rise._

_"I beseech you, listen to me daughter. This is not the way. Our people need justice, not war. If you will not reconsider for them, then please, I beg you to think of me as you make your final decision."_

_Harry couldn't help the laugh that bubbled forth. Her lips stretched as cruel humor overtook her. _

_"Daughter? You have no daughter Baron, you sold her like a lame cow at the market. You damned her to a loveless marriage, and a life of attempted assassinations. And for what? A conversation piece to address at balls? How proud you must be for one of your blood to now rest upon the throne." Her voice was cold; condemnation clear in every soft spoken syllable._

_The baron made to speak but she merely raised her hand, "Save your words. My decision has been made and the council already decided. We begin preparations at dawn. Now, I grow weary of this presumption you hold that your opinions matter when it comes to royal affairs. Consequently, I shall have to request we adjourn this facade quickly. Tom~"_

_Her companion stepped from the shadows, his head bowing over her hand. Lips caressed her skin with too much familiarity to be anything other than a lover's caress. The manner in which he stood before her father was possessive, demanding recognition for the obvious power he now held._

_Suddenly it became clear to Baron Potter the error of his ways. He had bartered his daughter but now another man owned her. After all, the spoils of war always go to the victor._

_Tom had been nobody, but not anymore._

_Now that the true King was dead, Tom was as good as King. He was the Queen's consort, and the only one to hold her counsel._

_The baron made a choked sound as he realized what the King's passing had caused - or rather what had caused the King's untimely demise._

_Still he tried to reach his daughter with logic, "He will ruin you! It is as clear as day, child. He is using you to be King, he will murder you just like he did your husband."_

_Harry laughed, allowing Tom to pull her to her feet. "No more than you," she murmured sweetly as her hand curled into the crook of Tom's elbow. "At least with him, there is hope for happiness. With you, there was only death._

_"Go home Baron and kiss your daughter goodnight one last time. Show her how much you love her before you sell her as well._

_"After all, you got your wish. I am Queen of Mai’Lafbut I will never be your puppet." Her voice echoed behind her as she was lead from the hall. The satin material of her gown the only sound to reach the baron's ears as she let herself be pressed against a wall just out of sight._

_Let him hear her pleasure, he was paid well for it. Let him hear the whore he had made. After all, he was her father no more._

_Her attention moved to the mouth on her throat and the hand between her thighs._

Slowly she was pulled out of her vision; the world spinning much like a kaleidoscope as a sense of reality returned.

Her breath coming in harsh pants as Umbridge nodded her approval.

"This is what you should give every practice. If not, do not bother coming tomorrow. You are easily replaceable." Her voice was just as harsh as before, the words carrying more venom than a gunshot.

"Of course, my apologies. I won't make the same mistake again." Harry murmured, her head bowing as her legs trembled. Her muscles threatening to give out as she was forced to continue standing.

Finally Umbridge left her alone; her body instantly crumpled as she tried to draw in air.

As Harry laid there, she tried not to dwell on what had just occurred. It wasn't some new phenomena but she still never quite understood why she was having these visions. She might recognize the universe was trying to tell her something but what exactly, she wasn't quite sure.

If they didn't take over while she slept, they dominated her dancing. Instead of crippling her, they empowered her. Some unknown emotions coming through and granting her access to a power far greater than one she possessed on her own.

Most of her visions were different but they all centered on the same man. Some mirage of godlike grace and beauty. He was not a good man, that much was clear throughout her visions. Sometimes he was cruel, a dark twisted man who preyed on her innocence for some selfish cause. Despite the malevolence lingering so clearly beneath the surface of ethereal perfection, he was never cruel to her.

Instead, he treated her with the utmost care. Almost as if she was a delicate flower in need of careful cultivation, his words smooth and well rehearsed as they seduced and confused.

Her body would bend to his will far more easily and gracefully than it did when she danced. The sense of captivation and desire featured heavily in her dreams. Something about him called to her very soul, demanding her to open her eyes to something much larger than her current existence.

Harry felt like she had spent her whole life searching for this man. It was as if he was the missing piece to her happiness. From what she got from each new vision was that her life had been meaningless before Tom's appearance.

Each time, her persona would get twisted and become darker and more easily swayed by his gentle promises.

It was odd - seeing herself in what was obviously another life. Even stranger was that the visions were crossing over into her waking moments. Harry had never considered herself religious or remotely spiritual but these constant occurrences had to be the work of a higher power. Even if she held some reservations regarding the validity of these waking dreams, or flashbacks, she found herself slowly falling in love.

Whatever these dreams meant, it seemed that Tom had always been there. If it was to be believed that she was being granted the opportunity to look back and relive her past lives for only a moment…then it was obvious that her fate was twisted around his.

For he seemed to be eternal, and she the goal sought out in every life. Otherwise, why else would she see them together every time she closed her eyes?

Why would she feel so powerful at the mere idea of him?

There was an unnaturalness to these memories, if they could be properly called such, and the heat present within them threatened to drown her. Sometimes, she was a man and he a woman, sometimes they were the same. In every tale she was so utterly enthralled and seduced that it was pathetic.

Harry couldn't imagine being so captivated by another human being. She had never had the opportunity to feel such warmth as she felt from Tom in these snippets of stolen time.

Just like now, the memory of his touch lingered on her skin. Hot and needy, and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her. Her eyes were fluttering closed as arousal seemed to energize her once more.

Her pulse sped up as she found herself sucked into another vision.

_"Harry, look at me."_

_Her - no his head shaking as he found himself pinned beneath a much larger body. Harry couldn't remember how he found himself trapped like this. They had been arguing about something that he couldn't remember._

_He didn't even know if he'd thrown the first punch but he had to have otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten here. All he could remember was rage taking over, and hurt. Tom had laughed at him, and easily subdued him as his protest died as soon as Tom's mouth slid over his._

_While he had tried to hurt Tom, Tom had never hit back. Instead forcing him down until his legs were wrapped tight around the larger man's waist. _

_Their pelvises grinded feverishly as Harry tried to bite him. _

_Tom was laughing again, a husky sound that was soft against the heated skin of his neck. _

_Harry would have snapped something rude but his ability to speak was lost as his head was yanked back and teeth dug into his throat._

_A pitiful whine escaped as his hips bucked hard. "Now, now, you need need to be patient or I'll leave you to solve your little problem by yourself."_

_Tom's voice was amused, mocking him as if Harry was the only one who was desperately hard and wanting._

_"Please, Tom, touch me~"_

_His pride was pushed away as he let his body go lax beneath his boyfriend. His submission was rewarded instantly as Tom shifted lower. Long fingers rubbed over his crotch as his cock was slowly exposed to the cold air._

_The dark tinge to his cheeks grew even more pronounced as Tom rubbed his knuckles over his leaking cock. A grin twisted over icy features before lips opened for him._

_Harry couldn't help but cry out as Tom took him in all the way. His movements slow and practiced as his tongue swirled around Harry’s head before taking him down his throat once more._

_Green eyes glazed over, as Tom sucked cock like a dying man desperately clinging to life. His hips were bucking harder as Tom took every harsh push against the back of his throat._

_His orgasm was coming fast. He never could last when Tom took him in his mouth. It so rarely happened that he had no stamina when he did. All it took was a few harsh sucks and Tom's eagerness to take every slam of Harry's hips, and he was lost._

_A sappy smile escaped him as he obediently lifted his hips. His pants were discarded in seconds and his legs fell open even further. He was very aware of how wanton he looked, spread out in such a manner._

_Tom was fully dressed, but Harry was bare from the waist down and writhing as he was worked open. His eyes rolled as Tom shoved his fingers even harder into him._

_His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he tried to hold back his desperation. He knew all too well that if he tried to rush Tom, his boyfriend could and would leave him in a heartbeat to reach his end - alone._

_The bastard._

_Instead, he dug his fingers into Tom's shoulders and let him play as he saw fit. Another orgasm threatened to overtake him just as Tom finally had enough teasing._

_There was no warning before Tom sank into him. Pushing into him with one rough thrust._

_Harry arched violently as Tom immediately set a fast pace. While the blowjob had been for Harry's pleasure, this was all for Tom's. And Harry delighted in it._

_He was being used. His cock leaking precum as it smacked into his stomach. Tom's hands were on either side of his head as he fucked into him in hard strokes._

_There was no affection in Tom's movements. He might never hit Harry, but he would fuck his lights out until he couldn't walk. He would keep fucking until Harry begged him to stop, and then continue. There was no forgiveness or mercy in his thrusts, only a need to come._

_And Harry was living for it. His voice cracking as his pleasure built and crashed over him._

_Tom of course, showed no sign of stopping. Instead Harry's nails dug into Tom's back as Tom continued to work him over. His body writhing as the pleasure quickly became too much._

_Another pathetic whine escaping him as he was forced into another orgasm, "Please Tom, please~" he begged._

_Harry didn't really know what he was begging for but he couldn't help but try to press himself closer to Tom. The struggle to keep his eyes open grew harder as a familiar darkness threatened to pull him under._

_His desire to resist its pull grew weaker as Tom showed no signs of stopping. With a weak cry, his cock jerked weakly as cum stained his shirt, his vision blurring as he finally succumbed._

_Harry came to as Tom pulled away from him. He couldn't even find the energy to be embarrassed as he felt cum drip down his thigh and Tom stared smugly down at him._

_A lazy smile crossed his lips as he continued to watch Tom's face, "Mhm, I love it when you're mad at me," he whispered._

_Tom laughed lowly, shaking his head. His fingers slid into Harry's as he pulled Harry's hand to his mouth. His tongue flicked slowly over a bruised knuckle before laying a small sucking kiss to the hand that had blackened his eye, "And I, you."_

Harry came to with a gasp, her back arching as her body reacted the memory. This time the tremble in her muscles was directly related to the wetness between her legs.

A trembling hand moved to touch herself as she squeezed her eyes closed. She was desperate for more; she craved Tom in a way that both terrified her and made her feel alive.

With every dream, he was drawing nearer. She could feel it.

And as she came, she moaned his name.

Tom was coming for her.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no-one left in the dance studio. However, Harry couldn't help but feel as if she wasn't alone. There was a presence lingering in the still air that begged to differ. She couldn't help but yearn that it was Tom - from some world other than the one in which she was trapped.

The dreams had been growing more frequent. Nowadays, she had difficulty telling reality from dreams. Her dreams were much more satisfying, but even they had began to take a darker tinge.

Instead of happiness and pleasure, there was a growing sadness. Very few of her past lives had been entirely euphoric, which she supposed was fitting.

Harry sometimes wondered if she was meant for happiness. Her dreams seemed to only cement her fear of unworthiness, even as Tom whispered that she deserved the world. Just as she deserved to see the world that smited her, burn.

Sighing, she shook her head as she finally looked at her reflection in the wall of mirrors. With another deep breath, she took her position and let herself go.

The tumultuous emotions in her chest were easily incorporated in her movements.

With eyes wide open, Harry dreamed. Another life slipping into existence as her present one slipped away.

_Harry had never thought she was meant to be Queen. At least not until Tom had come along. Prior to his interference, she had been contented to lurk in the legacies of the Greats. Her parents and her grandparents before them had cast long shadows not easily escaped._

_The whispers had started the moment the crown dared to grace her brow. Everyone spoke of her naivety and her inexperience - in more ways than one. She was a virgin queen with no king to support her, whose people had no faith in her ability to rule despite how tradition determined her claim to the throne as legitimate._

_There was pressure from all sides that she must marry and marry quickly in order to prevent their kingdom from descending into madness or becoming forced into barbaric submission._

_She had been lost, an earnest babe intended to drown beneath good intentions and societal expectations._

_Tom had changed all that, shaping her backbone until she was capable of demanding no quarter. Her words became sharp knives rather than tender utterances. Only then did the whispers that filled her ears become insubquental, now only his mattered._

_The rest of the Lords hadn't cared for Tom influence upon their Queen. They had wished to tie her to them by matrimony and thus securing their place in history. Unfortunately for them, she had no intention of marrying any son they presented._

_Why should she marry a puppet, when she was the Grandmaster? Why should she invite any other than Tom into her bed. He did not waver in the force of her anger but instead reveled in it. She would bear him, and only him a son, without him demanding the throne._

_Harry was the one true Queen and she would be damned before she quivered once more beneath another man's opinions._

_The Council of Lords hadn't been as enthused with her decision, and they had taken Tom from her. They were not enraptured with him as she was, with good reason. _

_The deference she had given him had enraged them, for they believed it belonged only to a Lord or a Lady of the Realm and not a commoner who had risen up within the ranks to General of the Grand Forces. A noble post but one that produced no prestige, only honor._

_The political sway Tom had been allowed outside his station had been the tipping point for many. So the council had plotted and murdered their way into her bedroom._

_An ultimatum had been denied through the folly of her pride and righteous fury. Consequently, Tom had been forced from her side into the passionless embrace of the Old Gods. As Tom died, so did the Council's last hope of control._

_A Queen could survive without a King but this Queen would know no further mercy. The King of her heart was dead and so the world would burn. They would know loss and sorrow and regret of the likes of which they had forced upon her in their delusion of superiority._

_No matter how they pleaded, their screams would never drown out the memory of Tom. She would rebuild the world from their ashes and they would never doubt their Queen again._

Her eyes opened, chest heaving as she struggled for air. As exhilarating as her impromptu practice had been, her skin felt tight as if the anger that she had experienced had transferred over into her current mood. The fingers gripping her water bottle tightened almost painfully.

Desperately, she tried to control the rage building inside her chest. It was a nasty insidious monster that clawed at her sternum. It demanded freedom and it terrified her.

Before she even realized it, the water bottle had left her hands and slammed into the mirror in front of her. It connected with a sickening crack; the glass splintering as if lightning had struck.

Shock reverberated through Harry as she took in the damage she had caused, but it soon vanished under the welcoming heat of her anger. She had never been a violent person but now she craved it. Her body trembling not from exhaustion but adrenaline.

The need to destroy everything in her path filled her. Dark fascination caused her to skip forward hand outstretched. Her fingers skated over the cracks, tracing them as she had once traced Tom's skin.

Her eyes were glazing over as she remember lightning striking in another life. Remembered the way it burned through her veins as it chased all the humanity from her limbs - dooming her to a half life, a cursed life. One where she was constantly searching for peace.

_There was something missing, or rather someone. She could remember a Prince who offered a marriage based on superficial desires. However, there was no escaping how much she had wished that their relationship would grow into one of endless devotion._

_Long had her own devotion been kept hidden, only slyly peaking when she had seen a flash of jealousy at the hand of her betrothed. Unfortunately for her dreams, his lack of spoken poetry had dashed her hopes for yet another year._

_Another year that might never come. Trapped was she in the body of a swan, to cry alone upon a lake filled with her tears. Magic was meant to be wondrous but it remained corrupt and oppressive around her throat._

_She knew that Tom would find her eventually and as the days turned into months and months transitioned into years her blind faith never wavered, but her optimism dampened._

_When it felt like she had no more tears left to shed, her dreams reawakened as her Prince stumbled upon her. But he was no longer the fool she had fallen in love with. Gone was the cold indifference and in its place was hot-blooded warrior demanding vengeance, just as he demanded her._

_His hands were greedy as they pushed her to the ground and parted her thighs. Her skirt was forced upward and she was touched for the first time, her back arching as he slid inside her._

_Harry couldn't help but cry out as his hips slammed against hers. She'd never considered what it would feel like to consummate their relationship. It was animalistic how he ground against her, her nails digging into his shoulders with equal fervor._

_Her completion was within grasp as Tom's movements faltered. Air was forced out of his lungs as he fell to the side._

_Distantly, she could hear herself screaming. The cruel laughter of her captor drowned out her grief. She barely noticed the blade that slid between her ribs, her body curling around Tom as if trying to protect him. She had waited years for him to be returned to her, only to have him slip through her fingers as she clung to him. _

Red dripped over the fractured mirror, slipping to the floor with an eerie pit-a-pat. However, Harry didn't even recognize the slight pain in her hand. The vibrant crimson was taking her further away from her uncharacteristic display of temper.

_The flowers that were in his hand dropped to the floor as he watched the man attack his boyfriend. His hand instantly went to the holster at his hip. Drawing it easily, his mouth opened to shout for Tom’s attacker to cease and desist. He never got the chance, because Tom turned the tables quickly._

_Confusion wrinkled his brow as he realized that his boyfriend was quite adept at hand to hand combat. Perhaps too adept - the attacker had no chance. Instead there was a sickening crack of bone snapping beneath pressure._

_Yet Tom did not stop, he continued. Flesh turning red while his handsome face twisted into a snarl._

_Harry's heart was in his throat as he watched his boyfriend turn into a savage beast ravenous for blood and pain. Instead of the stoic, romantic man that he had fallen in love with, a monster was born of angelic features, and he feasted._

_Yet he felt no fear, only awe. He was enraptured by the silky ease of Tom’s movements. The brutal precision that stripped all humanity from both victim and abuser was something Harry was all too familiar with._

_Disbelief and denial warring in his chest as he tried to convince himself that he was imagining things. _

_He had to be. His Tom would never, his Tom couldn't be..._

_Then a flash of steel caught his eye. His breath freezing in his lungs as he recognized the shape. _

_The slick sound of it sliding into the other man's body shredded his heart into small bite-sized pieces._

_The thud of a body tossed to the ground made him tremble. His gun lowered as he tried to make himself smaller._

_His boyfriend was a murderer. A murderer he was charged with bringing to justice._

_But would he be another victim?_

_He couldn't imagine the man who held him after a nightmare, who slowly made love to him like he was glass, who let him into his body with a lazy smile and gentle guidance would turn murderous inclinations towards him._

_But maybe he didn't know him at all. After all, how many nights had Tom slipped from their bed to taunt the department with another gruesome murder._

_"Tom~" His voice was soft, pathetic in the way it came as a broken whisper._

_His boyfriend turned, wiping his knife carelessly on his thigh. "Ah, Harry, you're headed home early. Were those for me?" He questioned, his head tilting as he moved closer, motioning to the flowers that were forgotten on the ground._

_His hand slid his knife into an almost invisible holster on his person. "You alright sweetheart?" he murmured, his hand coming to gently grasp the trembling hand clutching the gun._

_Harry could do nothing but blink as his firearm was removed from his hand. Fear was choking him as watched his boyfriend dismantle his gun in a manner that suggested an intimate knowledge of all weapons of war._

_"You said you didn't like guns."_

_Tom smiled; it was Harry's favorite smile filled with lazy kindness, one that only he had ever been gifted. Even the crimson staining the porcelain perfection could not diminish the familiar sensation of adoration that settled in his chest._

_"I don't, they are so impersonal. You have no control, I prefer knives. Everything you do depends on your own skill and not on the power of a machine."_

_Tom's words offered no comfort. Harry felt numb, saddened by how blind he had been. It couldn't have all been a lie, could it? No one could be so good an actor to fake a love that seemed so pure and earnest._

_"Are, are you going to kill me too?"_

_Tom laughed, shaking his head as he slid Harry's gun back into his holster., his hands coming to cup his boyfriend's face, "No, not you. Never you. You are mine in every sense of the word and I would never deprive the world of such perfection._

_"I have searched a thousand lives for you, and a million times you have slipped through my fingers but here and now, you have given me such precious gifts. I will never take from you, only give."_

_The tears he had been holding back finally flowed freely, "Tom~"_

_He didn't know what to do, or how he should feel. He loved Tom with a ferocity that terrified him even more than seeing the villain beneath the poet._

_"Ssh, let me," Tom whispered, backing Harry into the wall. "Can I kiss you?"_

_Harry must have nodded because Tom's lips were on his. It was salty with a tinge of copper, but filled with heat. A heat he had never felt before._

_A moan escaped him as his hands scrambled for purchase between Tom's shoulder blades. Nails digging into taunt muscles as he gave into the power behind Tom's yearning._

_"Please~" he begged, wanting more of the fire. Until that moment he had never known that he was being left wanting but it was clear that in all the years they had been together, Tom had been holding back._

_Harry had never realized what he was missing, and he craved. "Please, touch me."_

_Tom huffed, pushing Harry harder into the wall as he tugged at his buckle. "I can't - I won't be able to hold back right now."_

_Harry dragged him down for a kiss, his hips bucking into Tom's hand, "Don't, want you now."_

_Instantly, a change came over Tom. His hands grew heavy and bruising. His dominance was clear as he stripped Harry bare and pulled Harry up until his weight was braced upon the wall, legs wrapped tight around Tom's waist._

_Tom's kept his clothes on but dropped his pants low enough to get his cock out. Harry's eyes fluttered shut as his body accepted the thick girth, but Tom demanded them to open._

_His cheeks flushed as he felt the knife against his inner thigh. His head fell back, the depravity only serving to turn him on more. Pleasure blurring his morals as he was fucked harder than he'd even been in his life._

_Just as Tom took lives, he gave it. His mouth cruel against his throat, his thrusts forcing air from his lungs as his gratification lead to new heights he'd never reached._

_In that moment it didn't matter that Tom killed people, and that Harry had built his life around catching killers. All that mattered was the feeling of Tom against him and inside him - owning him completely._

_In that moment he realized how utterly dedicated to Tom he was. He would help hide the bodies, and escape discovery. Tom was his to protect in whatever fashion he could manage. He might not be able to offer any more than this but it was what he could give._

_He would do anything for Tom - even kill for him._


	3. Chapter 3

"But would you still? It's been so long sweetheart, so long since I've tasted your flesh and owned your soul. I've waited thirty years for you to be reborn, seventeen for you to be open to hearing me. Soon you'll be strong enough to see me."

Harry startled, not only by the sudden presence of another voice inside her head but by the familiarity of that voice, "Tom?"

"Of course, I promised to find you in every life. There is nowhere you could go that I would not follow."

Tears filled her eyes, and she couldn't understand why. It was all so confusing and she told him such.

Tom laughed. The sound was synonymous with coming home and she found herself leaning into it. Her eyes closed as her forehead touched slivered glass, a gasp escaping as a loose shard dug into her forehead. The pain serving to ground her as he continued.

“It might not make sense to this you that stands before me now, but you have seen me in a thousand lives. Our souls have recognized each other through many faces and many forms. Ever since your mother sacrificed herself to breathe life into a babe that offered no possibility for a breath outside an otherwise barren womb, a millennium ago. I came to her, as I come to you now. I promised a life, for a life - hers for yours. And she gave it, just as she gave you to me. However, a deal with the devil comes with many prices.

“You have to pay the price, a life for a life. Every time you’ve slipped through my fingers, we have gotten even closer to our goal. The heavens have tried to separate us but not anymore. I intend to keep you, to burn the heavens until only you remain. And I will worship you, like all the foolish mortals who look up in reverence and beg for salvation.

“You will never feel my loss again and felt it you have. Haven’t you? That loneliness that’s kept you up at night, the hole in your chest you can never fill. I know you’ve cried so many tears over it, over us, but I won’t let you go this time.

“I have always been the missing piece to who you truly are. On your own you are meant for greatness; with me you are a goddess. I’ve waited centuries for you to return to me, to be ready. This time I won’t let the world keep you from me. Never again.

“In this life you will be my salvation; for a life without you is damnation. I can take you away from this, you only have to say the word. Only you know what you have to do…”

“A life for a life,” she whispered as she stared at herself in the reflection. Harry was taken aback by how different her reflection looked. Where once there had been unmarred skin, a blooded lightning bolt was etched ever so delicately across her brow. A hint of what was to come.

Dazedly she traced the mark, spreading the reddish stain further across her forehead.

Her hands finished tracing her reflection, and she turned away. Her head felt so heavy and numbness crept into her bones. Her heartbeat slowed until she could barely manage to get back to her room. Her eyes wide awake as Tom’s words repeated in her head.

_A life for a life._

How many lives had she heard that phrase? How many times had Tom promised they would be together?

Why did she feel like this time was different? That victory was close at hand, and that her dreams would finally be realized?

There was no way to deny the longing that had lodged its way into her chest, fueling a hope she hadn’t known she’d possessed.

Tom had been right; loneliness was an old friend that often threatened to choke her. It seemed almost crazy that her hallucinations could be real, that the man that had haunted her dreams and every waking moment was more than a fantasy.

Harry had to be going crazy. After all, that’s what everyone had been whispering behind her back. Every sleepless night had her actions further analyzed by savage wolves searching for a weakness.

A weakness she now held.

It was crazy that this is what her life had come to. The battered child that suffered from hallucinations and shattered dreams. Every moment of her life was haunted by her past and a future she desperately wanted. And as she continued to ponder this strange occurance, or twist of fate, time was once more melding into itself. Perhaps that was when she had truly began to go crazy. When time had began to blur and she forgot how she got from place to place.

Even now, it was causing her untold stress as she blinked and released that night had turned to day once more. Instead of being in her apartment contemplating her insanity, she was in the studio waiting for practice to officially begin. Who was she kidding? She was always in the studio. She had nothing else other than her dancing.

Harry sighed, a small sliver of anger still residing in her chest. It showed as her pointe shoes slammed loudly into the ground as she attempted to break in her new pair. Even though she had done it a million times, she was not looking forward to the hours she would spend in pain, nor for the blood as her shoes resisted her efforts to mold them to her feet. Sometimes, like now, the burden on her body felt much greater than the exhilaration she felt when completing a successful run. 

It was such a shame. Even when it felt like she was flying, the moment her routine finished she was always forced back to the ground and into a cage. In her experience, there was always a cage for her to reside in: first it had been the closet under the stairs and now it was the pressures of being Umbridge's prized pet. Neither came with perks; both were built on the pain of palms across her flesh and blood flowing freely without justifiable reason. But she accepted it as her reality because as long as she could dance, for one single moment she was free and uncaged. 

Was that what falling in love was like? The temptation of freedom that lured you into yet another cage? Was that what Tom would do?

No, he wouldn't. He was different. Tom had to be different, otherwise her life was pointless and her dreams meaningless. No, there had to be more to life than this and Tom was the key. He had to be. To think otherwise was a betrayal.

And Tom deserved better; she deserved better.

Her fingers curled in anger as she heard Pansy approach her. Her nails dug into satin as she bent the shank. She tried to focus as she felt the leather shudder under her pressure. The highness of her arch demanded an almost completely untouched shank and it was a delicate balance between just the right amount of give and too much give.

The grating of Pansy's voice made it hard to concentrate. Her lip started curling slightly as she tried to breathe. Her temper was closer to the surface than usual; she could feel it boiling under her skin. Her sudden inability to sleep was driving her insane. Her skin felt too tight, her mind heavy and her movements more languid.

Tom had been nowhere in her dreams or her reflections; his presence elusive no matter where she looked. Desperately, she had tried to summon him behind her closed eyelids but he was never there. His absence gutted her, leaving her adrift in the mundane routine of her life: she woke up, had breakfast, danced, ate, and danced some more.

Today’s breakfast had been an English muffin with goat cheese, prosciutto, eggs, and coffee. The weight of the extra calories hanging very nicely around her midsection; a small comfort when embarking on another strenuous day.

She enjoyed the simplicity and ease of cooking even if it was at an ungodly hour. She also enjoyed the weightiness of the meal. Most of her fellow dancers preferred to start off lighter then build up to a heavier meal but after a childhood of scraps she enjoyed the small luxury afforded to her.

Everyone always expressed their distaste of dancing on a full stomach and Harry supposed she understood in theory. However, to her a full stomach was an absence of fear or anxiety. She was fed; she was safe.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she was due for a snack. She'd packed a few bananas in her bag and some nuts. She adored cashews and pistachios even if the saltiness of the snack dehydrated her a little. As she looked over at her bag with longing, she wondered if she'd remember to slip a few bottles of tea into it.

She was tempted to check but the idea of getting closer to Pansy and her shrieking persuaded her to wait a little longer. Or at least try to, with her shank properly bent she had no choice but to stop lurking and begin her walk around the studio.

Normally, the idea of walking on _demi-pointe _wouldn't fill her with dread but the thought of drawing near Pansy while the other ballerina was on a rant made her wary. She didn't have enough control on her emotions to be able to remain unaffected if Pansy turned her viciousness onto her.

In a futile attempt to put off the inevitable, after securely lacing the ribbons around her ankles Harry slipped into a _grand plie_. Her heels coming up while her toes were pressed firmly into the floor. A smile curved over her lips as she felt her quadriceps and inner thigh muscles stretch to accommodate the ninety degree angle.

Unfortunately, she couldn't keep avoiding the next step of breaking in her shoes. Her nose scrunched up at the idea of getting close to Pansy but the lure of food was too strong. Her eyes closed as she took a breath to center herself a little more before beginning.

Making sure her knees were straight she began to tiptoe slowly around the studio. The ball of her foot was sliding across the wood slightly as she focused on keeping her movements light. Gradually she started putting more weight behind her steps.

Theoretically, she could stop and transition to _en pointe _but she'd rather work on her shoes some more before going through a full transition. Already she could feel a blister forming on the tip of her toe, which was more irritating than painful at this point. By the end of the day, however, she had no doubt that she would have a bleeding wound she would have to tend to.

It only took a second for her focus to waver and she stumbled. Harry barely managed to catch herself but not before bringing attention to herself.

Pansy, much like a tiger shark sensing blood in the water, turned away from her entourage with glee. Her mouth stretched in an obscene sneer, "Keep fucking up Potter and you'll no longer be the precious Chosen One. If you're not careful Umbridge will pass you over to a more deserving candidate."

Even as her stomach began to cramp in a combination of hunger and anxiety about the impending confrontation, Harry straightened her spine and refused to let her sudden spike of fear show on her face. Somehow, she managed to laugh; the sound barely sounding forced.

"Like who? We both know that Umbridge prefers pure ballerinas. Or has it been so long since you've had your nose job that you forgot what you used to look like?"

Idly, she examined her nails. Her heart was racing in her ears as she tried to remain unaffected. She hated Pansy; the other girl reminded her so much of her aunt and uncle that it made her sick. Every time she heard her voice or listened to a tantrum it was like she was once more trapped in the cupboard of Privet Drive. The ache in her belly was making the memory seem so much more real to her.

She needed food, and she needed to get away from Pansy. However, now that she'd gone and opened up her mouth it would be impossible. Why did she always do this? She was terrible at staying out of trouble. If it wasn't her mouth, it was her moods.

Even as Harry recognized the need for de-escalation, she couldn't resist poking the bear further. "Even if I was demoted, it wouldn't be in your favor. After all you're always too busy panting after my partner to remember how to _divisés en quarts."_

There was a snicker as a few of Pansy's sycophants found humor in the accuracy of her statement. Pansy was a talented ballerina no doubt, but there was no true passion or ease in her movements. Hours of practicing gave her perfect lines but not natural talent, and if there was anything Pansy struggled with, it was moving on one leg while extending the other. The changing position between her body and the one quarter turn of her leg almost always caused a disconnect when the other ballerina danced.

It would have been a shame for a nicer ballerina but Pansy was simply mean spirited and vindictive. To a saner person, that would be a clue to step back and not provoke her. Harry was definitely not that person.

Embarrassment caused splotchy patches of red to cover Pansy's cheeks and neck, "Why you little-" Pansy stepped forward, one arm raised as if to strike.

Despite the immediate flinch that Pansy's motion had caused a deep anger to unfurl in Harry’s stomach, causing her to step forward. A smile that was all teeth covered the instinctive need to flee as she refused to cower back as expected.

"You might have money but you are a talentless shrew. Go ahead and try me. _If_ you place higher than me at VKIBC in November, I'll happily step aside. But we both know you've never been higher than seventeenth. It's a surprise Umbridge even lets you go."

Pansy snarled, but then she paused, laughing brashly as she ran her hands through her hair. "You're on, Potter. Just remember that you might look pretty but this will be your first competition at this level. You might have deceived your way into the company, but you're still trash and you always will be. I might have the ability to fund my own career but I got here on my own unlike you.

"Everyone knows you got here because of your mother's name and misplaced pity. Your mother might have been a star but you are _nothing_, and you'll never be as good as her."

With a final smirk, she pushed past Harry to go warm up before rehearsal started. Harry struggled to bring her temper under control, but there was a telling tremble to her fingers as they tried to curl into fists.

Pansy's words never failed to slide through her ribs like a dagger. It suddenly felt hard to breathe as she fumbled with her bag. Her pathetic attempt to undo the zipper halted as another dancer squatted next to her and took over.

Hermione smiled with painful kindness as she freed Harry's lunch from her bag. Handing it over she took a seat next to Harry's bag, "You know, I think you're really brave to stand up to Pansy. No one else does and I really admire that about you."

Harry managed a small smile before she accepted a banana, her eyes focusing sharply on the messy haired brunette before her. Perhaps it was the way that Hermione's appearance stood out so starkly from Pansy and her cohorts.

Her hair was a mess of dark ringlets that surrounded an open face much like a bushy halo. The strands were thick and silky; the soft waves just as inviting as the sweetness that was so evident in the other dancer's body language. One of the few ballerinas whose skin was darker than beige, Hermione had always been paired with Draco. The stark porcelain of his skin caused Hermione's own sepia-brown to stand out like a beautiful rose amongst dandelions.

There had been whispers that Hermione had been a diversity hire but it had only taken one moment to witness her raw talent to see that she had made it on her own. Most whispers had died down, but Harry had never paid much attention to them or to her fellow dancer. After all, they might be in the same class but Hermione was two years her junior and at the delicate age of fifteen, Harry hadn't considered striking up a friendship between them.

Now however, she realized how selfish she had been. If Harry had felt alone, she couldn't imagine how Hermione had felt. In that moment, she decided that she would strike up a deeper relationship than casual compliments after successful performances.

After finishing her second banana, Harry handed over a handful of cashews. "I have a feeling that you are equally as brave, but perhaps we should stick together just in case," she offered, her smile widening as she passed some more nuts to the younger girl.

The answering smile was enough to make the next three hours of grueling rehearsal less stressful. It did not, however, make the need for a boiling hot shower any less intense. With a promise to meet up after dinner, the girls separated for a little bit of relaxation. The prospect of a new friend put a little pep in Harry’s step.

Humming to herself, she followed the lure of hot water and the numbing effect of a shower. As she stepped into the warm spray, the billow of steam caused a momentary disorientation. The haze of heated air dragged her away from the task at hand and sent her to another place.

Tom was finally back, or rather, she could see him - in another time, with another version of herself.

_Even though the fingers against her skin were soft and feminine, she knew it was Tom that was touching her._

_There was a practiced ease by which her corset was cinched but the absence of breath was not from the tightening around her midsection. Instead, the gentle warmth seeping into her skin was turning into an inferno._

_Her skin flushed as desire ran through her, and she yanked herself out of Tom’s grasp in order to face her. There was an impulsivity running through her that demanded her action._

_“Run away with me. Let’s leave tonight, while the house sleeps and keep running all the way to the edge of the world. Until there is only you and me.”_

_Tom’s smile was sad; her touch gentle as she turned her mistress back around. “You know as well as I that they would follow us to the end of the world and beyond. The pedestal which you adorn is much higher than the one I could ever dare to reach.”_

_Despite the pain in her chest, Harry’s hope wasn’t to be diminished. “Please, I cannot live without you. I cannot live without the taste of your skin upon my lips, or the way yours curl around my name._

_“They wish to sentence me to death, a lonely death which would strangle me slowly without your comfort. Not only do they deny you, your place by my side but they would deny me the ability to keep you close. There could be no happiness without you in my life or in my bed. Yet they refuse to allow me even that. Instead, we are to be parted so I may be bartered in the name of freedom. This was not the life I was promised nor was it the life I promised you so long ago.”_

_The passion that fueled her impromptu speech drained from her voice as she pleaded with the other woman, “Is it wrong to want to know love and seek it?”_

“Is it wrong to want to know love and seek it?” Harry whispered as she braced her head against a smooth tile. The water had warmed her bones but she still felt cold. The cold was seeping through her as if her past self’s loneliness was contagious.

Sighing, she shook her head. The rest of her shower went by quickly; a shudder passed through her as she stepped out onto a plush rug, her toes digging into the fuzzy teal material. Her brief glee disappeared as she finally heard Tom’s voice again.

“I used to think love was useless until I met you, but every moment I’ve spent has made me realize how untrue that was. Love never existed until you.”

“Tom~” She breathed; her heart trapped in her throat as she realized she could feel him as if he stood right next to her.

Harry never got the chance to say anything else before she was whisked away. Her eyes glazed over as grief once more attacked her from every angle. It was as if she had never forgotten, never left that moment of horror.

She could still remember the sound of her screams when she found Tom, that familiar heat replaced by the inescapable stillness of death. It was if they had never left, playing over and over in her head but she'd never been able to hear them until now. The sound was chilling and made her tremble as she was lost in her memory.

_Trembling hands caressed the perfection that would never smile at her again; instead of the familiar warmth and devotion, there was only cold absence. Her heart was a gaping wound in her chest; air struggled to enter her lungs as she kept screaming over and over until the world trembled under her despair._

_Dimly she could hear others entering the bedroom, but she was numb to it all. Resolution started filling her as she recalled the countless hours spent praying for salvation and for answers on how to keep Tom close while her duty warred against her heart._

_No more._

_In that moment there was no God, only clarity._

_As she had intoned before, a life without Tom was not a life that deserved her. _

_Tom was gone and she would have no other._

_No man would ever touch the flesh that had been graced with Tom’s attention._

_Duty meant nothing anymore. If she couldn’t be with Tom in this life, she would find her in the next._

_With a sureness she’d never felt before, her hand slipped down to remove the knife that Tom always kept close. _

_Before anyone realized her intentions, the dagger found its home in the tattered remnants of her chest. Its sharp point dull as it buried itself in the emptiness Tom had left behind._

_She could hear the alarm in everyone’s voice as they scrambled to save her, but it was too late._

_She had promised until death do us part, and she would give Tom that in death as she’d failed in life._

_Her hand found Tom’s as her soul escaped the confines of her body, “Until the next life.” _

_They would always find each other. They were destined; their names written in the stars. Harry believed in them, and as she stared unseeing at Tom's face, she knew that they would find each other again. They were soulmates...and not even the Gods could keep them apart._

Harry choked back tears as her fingers turned white where they gripped the sides of the sink. She didn’t understand why she felt so lost and so empty. Why she was constantly receiving these vision which offered everything she could ever hope for only for it to be ripped away from her.

Her sobs grew louder as she begged someone, anyone to make the pain stop. She was going crazy, driven by sadness and desperation. One she could not understand.

“Why is this happening to me? Why are you making me go through this over and over? Why do I have to keep losing him?”

Angrily she wiped her tears away, her attention drifting to her fogged mirror. Her fingers hesitated as she saw her name written in the condensation. The five letters were carefully crafted in an all too familiar script, one she had seen many times in another life.

Slowly she traced the letters before finally wiping them away. To her shock, she found Tom staring back at her instead of her own reflection. Her fingertips traced his cheek with the reverence one offered a treasured work of art.

Before she could even ask how it was possible, Tom began speaking. Her hand never left his face.

“I know this is hard for you, but you have to listen. I don’t have much time, holding my likeness in this manner is rather stressful. I came to explain just a little more. Now, I need you to not interrupt or I won’t be able to finish telling you what you need to know.

“You see, the days of the Old Gods were complicated. The belief in the Other was very strong. You were only a baby, not having reached your first year of life before someone came to kill you. There was a prophecy that foretold the birth of a child that would bring upon the beginning of the end. They would be twice blessed, once by those of the Heavens and once by those of Hell. It was said that once their power was realized and only then, that not even Death would be able to touch them without angering the Gods. That they could take life and they could give it: a master of all that is, was, and could be.

“Now, there was another but your mother was given a vision, one which solidified the belief that you were the one that the prophets of old had spoke of. That is not to say there was not a possibility of your identity being incorrect but still your mother believed that someone would come for you. There are many forces in this world, and all of them wish to conquer the world. Some directly oppose me and other merely wish to hold the balance between good and evil true.

“It is because of this she went into the woods and made a sacrifice beneath a full moon, while you remained safely within her stomach. What she did not know was that there were complications and your heart had stopped beating, and because she felt herself fading, she called for someone, anyone, to come and protect her child. She wasn't expecting me, but I answered.

“I was intrigued you see… It was a miracle that she managed to conceive at all, her womb was never meant to sustain life but yet the Old Gods gave her a gift, one she had to protect. And so, she gave up what was most important to her - you.

“You were born under the full moon on All Hallows’ Eve and I took you from between bloodied thighs and breathed life into you. Thus the circle that had been foretold, had been forged.

“A sacrifice had been made, one that would bind us together for all eternity. One where I would always find you, would always protect you from the atrocities that would befall you. Sometimes I was late; sometimes I was early but each time I delighted in learning the taste of your flesh and the greying of your innocence.

“The circle is almost complete, but you must be careful. We’ve never been this close to completing the bond and there are those that wish for me to remain a lonely god, trapped between worlds with no true followers.

“It’s up to you precious; it’s time for my Chosen One to remember. _Remember._”

Tom disappeared with the sound of shattering glass yet her mirror remained untouched. The heat in the bathroom increasing tenfold as Harry struggled to breath. It was all too much. 

With a cry, Harry clutched her head as her connection to Tom wavered before growing stronger.

As she struggled to process everything she had been told, the world went black as she fell to the ground convulsing. Her back started arching as she tried to withstand the pain radiating through her. A thousand lives were slamming through her mind: she was a student, Tom was his teacher who seduced him with careful words and compliments; Harry was famous and Tom the bodyguard sworn to protect her, he died fulfilling his promise; Tom was an assassin sent to kill her but instead took her to bed and ruined her beneath silkened sheets; so many lives forgotten but no more.

After what felt like hours, Harry managed to drag herself off the floor, her eyes locking onto her reflection. For one moment it was as if she stared at a stranger. The woman in the mirror had symbols carved into her flesh, red darkening her skin and a wicked grin.

Green eyes blinked and refocused, and the stranger in the mirror was gone. Absently, she nodded. 

Now that she remembered, Harry knew exactly what she had to do.


	4. Chapter 4

It was obvious to everyone that Harry was very distracted but ever since her and Hermione had made it a point to hang out more frequently, it was becoming increasingly obvious that something was amiss. The easy friendship they had fallen into was comforting but there was an increasing itch beneath her skin. Her sleep pattern had been getting gradually more interrupted until she spent hours curled next to her windowsill absently staring out into the night.

Most days found her still there, eyes open but not seeing as dusk turned to dawn and her responsibilities crashed down onto her. To Hermione’s ire, Harry’s appetite had also began to diminish. Her stomach cramped at the mere smell of food until she forgot what it tasted like. Even the richest dishes turned to ash on her tongue. 

Where she had once revealed in the luxury of food, there was no pleasure in the taste; no weight behind a single bite. It was more routine or chore than enjoyment or sustenance.

The malnutrition and abuse she had suffered as a child had contributed to her slight physique. Her body had been slender and straight like a young willow yearning for the sun; now she was pale and fragile like a fallen twig ready to snap at any moment under careless boots.

Regardless of her sickly pallor and her disregard for proper nutrition, her dancing had yet to suffer from the changes Tom’s absence had caused in her. Day after day, hour after hour, her body bent, contorted, and lept into action at Umbridge’s every whim.

But the magic was gone. There was no longer any passion fueling her movements. Albeit every move she made and position was completed with the utmost perfection, there was no soul fueling her movements.

As a consequence, Umbridge pushed harder and screamed more. Yet, Harry remained unflinching even when Umbridge’s temper consisted of objects being thrown in the near vicinity of her prized ballerina.

It was as if Harry had all but died and Hermione was determined to get to the bottom of it. The sudden absence of what made Harry, Harry, was terrifying and filled Hermione's stomach with dread.

If there were any moments when Harry showed any signs of life or emotion, it was the stolen moments when Hermione cornered her in her room and forced her to eat. The company was nice but it did not warm Harry for more than a moment.

Hermione on the other hand was not to be discouraged. Currently she had draped herself over Harry’s lap and was happily chattering away about the movie they were watching. Harry would never admit it, but she found the way Hermione gushed about the themes of morality and the corruptive elements of power as exemplified in the Lord of the Rings adorable.

It did not escape her notice the irony behind the themes her friend was meticulously dissecting and her own thoughts about her destiny. Even with her fascination with how the younger girl’s brain worked when she built herself into a rant, it did not distract her from the monumental task at hand.

Her confliction over the matter finally caused her to deviate from her casually uttered, “Uhuh,” and “Mhm’s” into actual sentences. “Do you think that bad things can be done for the right reasons? Or do you think that every evil act is destructive, even if it brings happiness?”

Her attention locked onto whiskey brown eyes as they stared up at her. Hermione’s brow crinkled as the girl thought over her words.

“Are we talking religiously or morally?”

Harry paused, her fingers sliding into Hermione’s hair. She didn’t have the dexterity to make anything close to the masterpieces Hermione was capable of creating with her tightly woven locks, but she enjoyed the challenge of placing a few braids into the thick mass. It amused her to see her inexperienced attempts blend in with the rest of her friend’s hair. Unfortunately, it only served to have her be yelled at when Hermione tried to brush out her unruly hair and stumbled upon them with her comb.

She managed a small shrug as she dedicated herself to making a better braid than last time. “I guess I mean both? I suppose people can live their entire lives without examining the religious elements or consequences of their decisions, but I guess what I mean is… can something considered evil really be something good?

“Take cannibalism for instance, yeah we frown upon it but in some cultures, it is not only expected but considered a delicacy. We look back on societies and condemn them for their lawless justice but at one time that was how people survived. Does that mean that what is considered evil today, might not be considered evil tomorrow?

“Also, what determines evil? Is it just someone waking up and being like, oh I don’t like that, we should ban it? Are actions evil because they are inherently evil or are actions evil because we decide they are?”

Very quickly the tides had turned. Where Harry had been the one quietly listening to Hermione’s ranting, now Hermione lay still as Harry continued on with her train of thought.

When no immediate answer came, Harry just sighed and started to undo one of the braids she had done. Startling slightly as her friend’s hand covered her own.

“I think what matters is what people’s intentions is are, whether or not you believe in God and the commandments. It depends on what’s inside. Or at least that’s what I believe. Do you believe in something?”

Harry made a face. Shrugging as she answered, “I’m not quite sure, I guess I believe in destiny and… soulmates. I believe that there’s always someone out there for you, waiting, and it might take a million years but that one person will always find you.

“...Yeah, I believe in destiny and that special someone.”

Her lips curled into a dreamy grin as she thought about Tom. Even though there had been a lot of hardships in their relationship, if her memories were to be believed, somewhere deep inside she knew that somehow it would all be worth it. She believed in Tom, in the words he had spoken and the connection she could feel growing between them every day.

It was funny, how easily her morals could be swayed by the promise of love and fulfillment. Her desperation to be loved was driving her to abandon all consideration of right and wrong at the possibility of escaping her reality.

As she had once said in a past life, she would kill for Tom and the time was drawing near. She could feel it in the air when she lost herself to the inky blackness of night. Her birthday was drawing near and it was only right for the circle to be completed under the illumination of a full moon just as it had been forged so many years before.

Hermione however mistook her expression for something else entirely. “Oh really? Is it Blaise that puts a smile on your face?” she teased. “I thought you guys looked very close after rehearsal the other day.”

A laugh burst from Harry at the thought. “Of course not, it’s such bad form to hook up with your dance partner. Everyone knows that. Plus, he’s waiting for a certain someone to reach her majority to Pansy’s ire.”

She grinned mysteriously at her friend. While she doubted anything would come from it, she did imagine Blaise and Hermione would make a good couple if it weren’t for the age gap and Pansy’s bitching. It might not be uncommon, but Harry was sure that both Blaise and Hermione were too headstrong and morally self-righteous to consider crossing that line anytime soon.

In fact, she found it rather sweet. Blaise was kind in a way that wasn’t directly obvious. His eyes were warm and open despite his refusal to display any emotion outside of a scripted routine. Unlike Hermione’s partner, he was quiet and thoughtful. Never one to stray past his duty to the company, he kept himself out of most of the drama.

His relationship with Pansy and Draco had always confused Harry. Draco was loud and arrogant; Pansy was a bitter shrew; Blaise was calm and collected. That was not to say Blaise was void of fault, he had his share of arrogant moments, but he was much more bearable than his counterparts.

“It’s a shame you have never been paired with him; you guys would be beautiful together.”

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes, “Why? Because we are both Black?”

Rolling her eyes as well, Harry shoved Hermione off her lap. “Of course not. I just mean that his dance style might be more suited to partner with you. Plus, Draco is such a loud dancer always making solos out of duets. Why Umbridge doesn’t just put him and Pansy together so they can self-destruct, I will never know.”

Smirking at her friend, she ignored Hermione as she scrambled back onto the couch. “That was unnecessary, and you know it.”

“Then don’t be stupid,” Harry responded, before lazily stretching. Aragorn’s impassioned speech drew her attention back to their movie marathon.

As they both stared at the screen, Hermione broke the silence, “Do you really believe so strongly in destiny?”

Harry hummed, “Yeah, I think I do. I mean take Aragorn for instance, he avoided claiming his throne for years, but his problems were only solved when he assumed his rightful place as the heir of Isildur. I believe that no matter what the cost, life and destiny find a way. Even if you have to compromise something of yourself along the way… even if you have to risk losing everything.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Harry could see Hermione begin to frown. “But love shouldn’t mean compromising yourself, that’s not love…”

“Hm,” Harry murmured and refused to answer further. Instead focusing on the TV and for once Hermione did not push the issue. The resignation and sadness that was suddenly highlighted by the flickering of the screen spoke volumes. However, Harry saw none of it. Her mind was elsewhere, in another world where there no longer existed hard choices. Her life already lived, and the mistakes lost to a time she had almost forgotten.

Murmuring something under her breath, she excused herself to the restroom. Her body was drawn to the mirror before her and her hand turned the tap until the water was scalding hot. Light tremors of steam trailed up to twist against cool glass.

A smile curved her lips as her face contorted in the rapidly clouding glass. She could feel Tom’s approach, her head tilting demurely as she witnessed his appearance. Her fingers ran sadly across the harsh set of his jaw.

“What is happening to me, Tom? Why can’t I feel anymore? I know my body is weak… but I feel _nothing_,” Harry whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “Every moment I spend without you feels like I'm dying and yet I keep going, as if I can’t stop. I know what I have to do but something keeps telling me it isn't the right time.”

Tom’s lips stretched into an unnatural grin. His teeth were oddly sharp; his eyes flashing crimson. If there was ever a doubt about her seduction to the dark side, it was dispelled as she felt only affection and arousal at the sight.

It was ironic really. She had always wondered why Padme had abandoned Anakin. He had lost himself trying to save her. Yes, evil actions could be completely justified by good intentions.

Evil actions can have good intentions.

Evil actions can have good intentions.

Murder was a small price to pay for forever. Tom was her forever.

“Corde meo… anima mea… ”

The whisper was soft, practically a lover’s caress. Her eyes shut as she willed herself to see something about the two of them. She had been too long without his touch, his voice, his guidance. Her fingers curled into the mirror as she desperately tried to recall a past life.

There was a sudden flash of red behind her eyelids, and her mouth curled into a larger grin. Something was materlizaling; her body finally growing warm after so many lonely nights had cursed her person to ice.

Just as the faint outline of a man appeared, a knock on the bathroom door caused her eyes to fly open. Hermione’s voice called her back to reality as she struggled to hold back her rage; a sob choking her as her face slowly appeared in the mirror.

In that moment she was struck by the bitter sensation that she had just lost something precious. That she’d been granted the gift of what had been and would never be.

A sliver of her past, present, future within her grasp, before time fractured around her and abandoned her - always alone.

But not for long.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was positioned on the floor between Hermione and Blaise. Her back to the floor as her feet turned out in first position. Her arms to the side, palms facing down. She paused briefly before pulling her knees sideways, her heels lifting until there was a slight burn in her hip flexors.

Taking a deep breath, she looked straight up as she focused on keeping her ribs down.

As the burn intensified, she switched positions. One leg bending to the side as her other leg stretched out as high as she could in the opposite direction. There was a slight tremor in her muscles as she struggled to keep her knee and outstretched leg flush with the floor.

Humming, she switched legs. Misjudging the distance between her and Blaise, she jabbed him with her toe. At his disgruntled look, Harry kicked him again just to annoy him.

Hermione sniggered at Blaise’s expression. Immediately, Harry lost control of her limbs. Her body contorting in on itself as she struggled to quench her laughter. The dig of Hermione’s elbow into her side helped ground her slightly.

The slice of their instructor’s voice rudely broke through any humor. Harry couldn’t help but grimace. Green eyes rolled as she noticed Pansy’s insistent glaring. Her attention slamming into her as another elbow threatened to bruise a rib bone.

“Enough! You are acting like animals. Potter, for the last time shut your ungrateful mouth before I demote you.”

Gritting her teeth, she straightened, moving closer to Blaise in order to escape the unnatural boniness of her friend’s limbs. With a soft sigh, she forced herself to concentrate, her back straight even as her body curled slightly into her partner’s. His body heat offered a little warmth to the ever-present chill that encased her.

“Now, as you know, we have our production of Swan Lake coming up. We have been preparing for this for two years and if anyone screws this up, they will be out on the streets before the curtain falls. Is that clear, _Potter_? If you screw up, I will replace you before you blink,” Umbridge’s gnarled finger jabbed in Harry’s direction.

A low snigger came from Pansy’s direction as the threat weighed heavy in the air.

Dimly, Harry nodded. She was well aware that the success of tomorrow night’s performance relied heavily on her. Her double role was the crucial element in the production. However, each one of them knew that they were all replaceable.

Umbridge cared for nothing but her name, and she had built it off of their blood, sweat, and tears. Each one of her dancer’s success translated into Umbridge’s success and all of them were loath to have their career ruined out of spite.

One mistake and everything they had worked for could be over.

Harry had to nail this performance. Once she perfected Odette and Odile, she could leave the company and this repetitive existence.

After all, tomorrow was her birthday.

Tomorrow was a full moon.

Freedom was within her grasp. The blood pounded in her ears as it demanded the hours to go by quicker.

Despite her distraction, Harry managed to recognize the dismissal. With a promise to meet up with Hermione later, she begged Blaise to stay and practice with her for a little while longer.

While tomorrow wasn’t as important to him as it was to her, he was easily swayed to her reasoning. Blaise was truly an exceptional dancer. His body was lean and towering as he stood in front of her. Her current mission was the execution of the infamous _fouettés_ she had to manage perfectly.

Several _fouettés_ were difficult but doing thirty-two while capturing the beats in between was mind-boggling. She possessed the talent, that was undeniable, but every once in a while, the doubt would creep in. Her lack of appetite worried her. She tried to eat more but every morsel turned to ash as soon as it touched her tongue and her stomach rebelled.

Her sudden weight-loss only made her feel more unstable, which is why she had been hounding Blaise to practice more. Now that she had shrank to ninety pounds meant the way he held her and threw her had to change. Any overcompensation could be disastrous - for the both of them.

Luckily, Blaise had no problems bossing her around. He was perhaps even more demanding than Umbridge; somehow his tone remained kind as he ordered her to dance to his tune.

It made it easy to follow his commands. Under his direction her right leg brushed forward, opening second position with her feet and legs equally turned out. Then closed until her right foot was pointed to the side of her right knee. Over and over, _plie_, open to second, _releve_, closed to _passe_. Finally, she stepped away from the bar, preparing on six seven.

Blaise’s voice was soft but firm as he counted for her, “One, two, three, four…” Her body moving once he reached eight: open, _passe_, _passe_, _passe_, closed.

After what seemed like hours, they transitioned to the duality of her role - her appearance as the vulnerable captive transitioning into a scheming seductress as she wrapped herself around Blaise. Her body weaved much like a swan as her character tempted him into abandoning the truth his body knew, even as his eyes deceived.

Time seemed to stand still as she danced, her body and mind lost to the near impossible stretch of her limbs. The hands against her skin knew her so intimately, it was almost enough to forget who they belonged to, who she belonged to.

Blaise lead her movements easily and with a sureness that Harry couldn’t manage. Their breath was heavy as they came together, lifting her into the air only to let her escape. 

The romanticism of the dance they were partaking in did not escape her but her body called out for someone else. She could feel Tom watching her. His gaze burning her as Blaise bent her carefully before she slipped out of his grasp.

Her movements changed from languid and wistful to bold and sharp. Instead of leading, Blaise transitioned into a statue who came alive with her movements. She tiptoed around him, directing his limbs to follow her like an adoring puppy. His hand around her waist was light as he tripped to pull her closer, but she refused.

The blackness of her gown accented dominance over his person. His vow of eternal love fell prey to bewitched ears as she allowed him to twirl her; her entire weight poised on the tips of her toes as she slowly turned. Her body somehow managed to stay still as she stood perfectly balanced.

The arch of her foot was defined as she transitioned behind Blaise. Her hand found his arm for balance and she extended one leg toward the ceiling as she bent towards him. Their dance completed as she went to one knee, her leading leg stretching forward and her body twisted upwards so she could lock eyes with her partner as he loomed over her.

Her heart pounded in her chest as everything felt too vivid and too intense to be a practice run. Confusion struck as applause broke the spell they were under.

When had time passed as they danced? The last thing she remembered was practice the night before. Yet here she was costumed and on display. It was as if she had entered an alternate reality while within Blaise’s arms.

Sixteen hours had passed and somehow, she had managed to perform half of an entire ballet without realizing it, and by the loudness of the crowd, she had managed perfectly.

Quickly she exited the stage, her hands beginning to tremble as she changed her outfit. The stark white of Odette’s attire felt almost suffocatingly heavy against her skin. As if the mere illusion of innocence tainted her.

A cough broke her concentration as her wardrobe change was interrupted. Through her confusion, she had missed their initial attempt at conversation. Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand what was transpiring before her but all her protests were cut off as cuffs were being forced around her wrists and she was dragged away from side stage.

Harry managed to recognize the attire that marked her assailants as police officers but the acknowledgement offered no solace or understanding as her stammer pleas for clarity fell on deaf ears and the other dancers whispered in confusion.

Only then did she realize that two faces were missing from the wings.

Her confusion only increased as she was dragged into the back seat of a cop car. Harry desperately pulled the cuffs, lights flashing as people witnessed her fall from grace. It didn’t matter what the charges were, her career was over. Her life was over.

_Tom!_

She would never be able to be with Tom - not in this life.

They had been so close, but it didn’t matter anymore, she had screwed up.

The moon taunted her with its bright gaze as she was driven to a police station. What station she didn’t know, she hadn’t been paying attention when she had been read her rights. Whatever accusation had been placed onto her shoulders was lost into the ether. It meant nothing at this moment as grief threatened to drag her asunder.

She had failed, and for the first time in a long time she felt something. Shame was hot in her chest, her eyes burned as she tried to hold herself together.

The trip to and into the station was a blur. The world expanded until she couldn’t recognize anything other than the buzzing of voices as she was steered somewhere.

At least until a familiar brown caught her eye. Hermione was standing by a wall clutching a coffee cup. The clean white of the bandage around her head creating an ethereal appearance that only served to bring attention to the swelling to the right side of her fae.

Her mouth fell open as they locked eyes, shock reverberating through Harry.

She remembered. Her skin took on a sickly pallor as the last twenty-four hours came rushing back to her.

_Blaise had been pressed against her and she was laughing as he spun her. Their bodies contorted as she fell back, her fingers skimming the floor as she hung from his grasp. Her back arched as her toes curled, stretching toward the sky. _

_The exhilaration of managing a perfect run made her light-headed and gleeful. When Blaise finally let her go, she thanked him and promised to get some sleep. Harry had meant to, but she wanted to practice a little longer. _

_However, procrastination seemed to weigh heavy. Her attention was drawn to the window and the serene beauty of the night outside. The moon was high and breathtakingly bright. It called to her, confessing the midnight hour’s secret to her eager senses._

_Harry barely remembered her bag falling as she pressed a hand to the window. The spell only broke when a grating voice reached her ears. _

_Turning, she made a face as Pansy demanded her attention. Her mind wandered as she could feel the other ballerina working herself into a rant. _

_Pansy must have realized she had stopped listening because Harry found herself crashing back into the window. Her head knocked against the sturdy panes with a dull thud. Before she could realize what, she was doing, her arm swung out and collided with a sickening crack with Pansy’s nose. _

_Harry grinned as an eerie calm took over her. She had never felt so alive as she did in that moment. There was a bloodlust fueling her movements. Her fingers curled into fists and she hit Pansy one more time for the pure glee. _

_There was a sense of vindication at the sound of flesh bending under force. The rush of power drove her with a confidence she had never felt so intensely. Checking to make sure the other girl was breathing; it wouldn’t do for her to expire before the ritual was complete. _

_Luckily, the force she had been hit with had only knocked Pansy unconscious. It was surprising really, when she had originally planned for this event Harry had anticipated needing a lot more energy and time to subdue her. Even so, she was utterly exhausted by the effort she’d just put herself through. _

_Retrieving her bag, she dug out a thick black cord for the bottom of her bag. Pansy might have been trash, but Harry had still crafted a care package for her final moments. Each item chosen carefully for effectiveness and simplicity. _

_Her fingers were nimble as she tightened the cord around Pansy’s wrists and ankles, pulling it tight until there was no way to yank it loose. Her head tilted as she contemplated whether or not to ensure Pansy’s immobility without question._

_At this point, Harry decided against it. She didn’t feel it necessary to expend any further energy by binding Pansy to the barre. It was pointless; the slowly bleeding lacerations to Pansy’s face ensured that she would have adequate time to finish the ritual without interruption. _

_Or so she thought._

_“Harry?” Hermione’s voice was soft and filled with caution as she called out to her._

_Immediately Harry’s spine stiffened, dread bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she turned to watch her friend. It was obvious that the younger girl was hesitant to approach; a conflicted expression clear on her face as if there was some internal struggle Hermione was battling with._

_Despite the weird feeling that had briefly tormented her, her voice was cool and collected, disgustingly nonchalant for someone who had beaten and tied up a fellow company dancer, “Hey Mione. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”_

_Her friend shook her head almost violently. Her hair was wild as it twisted in a breeze of her own making, her countenance growing more distressed as she begged, “You don’t need to do this! I don’t know what he told you but he’s lying to you. You mustn’t complete the ritual. It’s against God!” _

_The anguish was clear in the way Hermione’s voice cracked in her terror. Harry found it odd seeing as Hermione had never confessed to being religious. Nor did it go unnoticed that Hermione seemed to know what was happening to her, what she had meticulously planned and was prepared to execute._

_Her brow furrowed, head tilting to the side as she stared at her friend unblinkingly. It was strange. She had never seen Hermione look so young. Objectively, Harry had known that Hermione was her junior but the maturity that had plagued their conversations and their dreams had offered some escape from the truth. In this moment, Hermione was just a scared little girl in over her head._

_Harry felt something akin to pity settle into her skin, but she refused to dwell on it. Answers were needed, and she needed to finish what she had just started. _

_“You know about Tom? How!?” Her calm slowly evaporated as she looked on with new eyes. Hermione was a threat. If Hermione knew, she would have to die. Nobody could stop her. She needed Tom and she was so close to being with him - until time itself disintegrated. _

_Perhaps Hermione could sense that Harry was dangerously close to the edge because she rushed into her explanation. Her hesitation was pronounced still as every word slipped between them, “My family has always known; every child committed to the cause. I’m sorry but I can’t let you unite with him. I don’t know how he twisted you into this, but this isn’t you. It’s not a fairytale and he isn’t your prince charming. If you do this, this act against man and God, it’ll be the end of all of us. Please, you have to believe me Harry!”_

_Her hand was outstretched, her countenance both hopeful and heartbreaking. She was asking for Harry’s trust and allegiance. Even though she loved Hermione, there was a higher power calling to her - one other than Hermione’s god. _

_Harry had her own god, and he was coming for her. He was almost here._

_A spark of sadness lit in her chest as she considered her friend. She had felt joy and at home while she was cultivating a friendship with the younger girl. Consequently, she felt a newfound hesitation in her to hurt the other girl. _

_Tom wouldn’t care either way; he would allow her to kill Hermione or let her live, whichever she desired. It might have been a delicate balance, but she was well aware of the allowances he would give._

_As she contemplated the correct action, her eyes moved past Hermione to stare at the man she could barely see in the mirror. His form shimmered until she couldn’t see anything other than the scene in front of her._

_With jerky precision, she nodded and moved toward Hermione. Her hand began to tremble as she drew closer. The air escaped her lungs and choked her as she stared at Hermione’s face. There was a tentative smile stretching over her countenance, and the girl nodded._

_Suddenly her water bottle was in her hand, and Hermione never saw it coming. Their hours of talking and bonding blinded her to how severe Harry’s attachment to Tom was. _

_The glass collided with a sickening crack, blood immediately pooling beneath the surface of unbroken skin. Hermione’s eyes glazed over as her body crumpled. Harry had hit her with enough force to daze her but not kill her._

_With careful movements, Harry dragged her to the side and bound her to the barre. Gently she brushed Hermione’s hair back and ensured she was as comfortable as her bindings would allow. The brief flicker of regret stabbed her chest as she considered her best friend. _

_Impulsively, she kissed the crown of Hermione’s fuzzy halo; affection clear as she murmured her apologies. “Forgive me for I forgive you for trying to keep me from him. I am so sorry you got caught in the middle, but nothing will keep me from being with him. Thank you for being my friend. Maybe in the next life, you’ll be able to find me. I’d like that, I’ll keep watching for you. I'll always watch for you, on every horizon, I promise.” _

_A sad smile crossed her face and she touched her forehead to her friend’s, “Tom won’t let you die I promise. Until the next life, perhaps~”_

_After ensuring that there was no way that Hermione could escape, she returned to Pansy’s unmoving form. Dragging her to the side, her hand reached out as if waiting for something. As if the universe had answered her silent call, a very thin blade materialized in her hand. The metal glinting as it seemed to attract any light to its curved edge. With a blank expression, she pressed the tip to Pansy’s skin, the sharpness of the blade sliding through flesh with a breathtaking quickness. _

_The sudden redness to the paleness of Pansy’s features made it harder for Harry to breath; pleasure curling warm in her belly as blood spilled over her hands. With the utmost care, she dipped her finger into the still warm blood and set to work, her movements almost scripted as she drew the necessary symbols into the wood. _

_Time ticked by ever so slowly as she concentrated on the intricacy of each character. Everything had to be perfect; the circle had to be complete. _

_The world narrowed into a fishbowl until she was completely immersed in her work._

_With her eyes raised to the heavens, Harry smiled. Her knees were placed on either side of Pansy’s hips. Her hands gripped the knife as if it were a lifeline. In a sense, it was. The point glittered dangerously as the midnight hour grew to a close. Tom’s life hung in the balance as the world grew eerily quiet. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath. _

_The world roared back to live as her knife slashed downward. It slammed into Pansy’s chest with a slick sound, cutting deep through flesh and connected with her sternum. A frown crossed Harry’s face as the knife jolted, her displeasure clear as she twisted the blade._

_Her brow remained furrowed as she dragged the knife down with difficulty. Despite the sharpness of her knife and the pressure behind her movements, she still struggled to cut through muscle and flesh. A grunt escaped her as she doubled the amount of force she used._

_The sound was interrupted by a low whine, the air rushing from Pansy’s lungs to never return. With a final yank, Harry’s goal was completed. The knife clattered to the floor as her hand slipped into the jagged hole she had made in Pansy’s chest. Her fingers caressing the faintly beating organ as it struggled to keep pumping._

_Blood continued to spill over her fingers, coating her arms as she kept her hands where they were. Enjoying the sensation of watching Pansy’s life disappear. _

_Right before the final beat, her grip tightened, and she yanked. _

_A disgusting squelch the only sound other than Harry’s rushed breathing as the heart ripped from Pansy’s chest. Her mouth twisted grotesquely as she grinned. Her teeth were bared and her face was splattered with red._

_In that moment, all humanity ceased to exist in Harry Potter. Her expression filled with malevolent glee as she raised her offering to the sky; a gift to the Heavens as she was made whole. Her head fell back and her eyes closed, her hands digging harder into the slick organ. More blood dripped down onto her face as she waited. _

_Her skin grew tight as magic beat down on her. Her mouth opened wide as her teeth dug into still warm flesh. The muscle resisted yet she persisted. Her teeth finally ripped piece after piece, until there was nothing left. With every mouthful she felt her metamorphosis beginning. _

_It was as if the whole universe and beyond opened for her. She was a conduit for something much greater than herself. It pulsed inside her and grew exponentially. For one heartbeat, she could see all that was, all that is, and all that would be. _

_Magic far older than time itself filled her and spilled out onto the world. Her senses roared with the amount of power she had consumed and cultivated. Her eyes were frozen toward the skies as the circle was completed. _

_A shadowy figure approached her, considered her and then bowed._

_She was the Master of Death and the world would burn to her liking. It was her Destiny and she had never understood until this moment. _

_She had entered the world alone, but no more, Harry was something more now. Magic was a part of her, bound to her soul as was Tom. She could feel him; it was hazy and at the edge of her mind, but he was near and it was time._

_As the prophecy had stated so long ago, twice blessed and forever more. Her sacrifice to the Old Gods would ensure her immortality as well as Tom’s. Her soul had fractured and become anew; she was no longer a child or an innocent babe. The power of the Old Ones flowed within her and never again would she be forgotten. _

_Life after life, she cried and been left wanting but no more. Her reality was of her own making and nothing could stop her from obtaining whatever she wanted. _

_Logic settled heavy on her shoulders as she realized that she was also giving up her humanity and set upon the world a chain of events that could not be broken, but Tom was worth more than that. Tom was worth the world._

_The magic swirled around her as it settled into her core. The pressure in the air intensified before it shot through her like lightning. Her hair stood on end as she was filled to the brim with an otherworldly presence. Her transformation was almost complete._

_Her eyes changed to a vibrant red as she consumed Pansy’s heart. Her face blank as her mission was completed. It was as if the woman she had been had perished as the cursed flesh touched her lips and left another in her stead. Her breath frozen in her chest as her heartbeat slowed; her eyes opened as Pansy’s life force joined the magic she channeled. _

_She was born anew._

_Her head tilted as she considered Hermione’s unconscious form. With a soft sigh, she abandoned the scene, her hands adjusting her clothes and pulling her jacket closer around her. _

_Her vision blurred slightly, and she shuddered but then the moment passed and all was normal again. With careful steps, Harry stepped away from her handiwork. The door to the practice studio opened for her, before she even reached it. _

_On its own accord, it closed behind her with an ominous click and she was gone. _

_The circle had been closed._


	6. Chapter 6

Despite the pounding in her head and the guilt slamming through her, Hermione forced herself to remain unmoved by the scene in front of her. Her connections or rather her family's connections had allowed her the ability to get closer to the investigation but not without protest. 

Hermione frowned as she watched Harry through the glass. Her place in the company allowed her some level of notoriety but her family took her further. The detective in charge wasn’t enthused with her encroaching on his territory; regardless of who she might be, or who her family was, she was still just a child in his eyes. A child that had no place demanding a firsthand look at a killer.

Even now he was attempting to herd her out of the observation room, “You need to leave. Not only is it a violation of Ms. Potter’s constitutional rights, but you are getting on my last nerve. You are a minor who is interfering with an active investigation.”

Hermione laughed, “Come on Detective, I’m hardly interfering with your investigation. Your moral compass maybe. Now, I believe you have a job to do, sir.” Her head tipped toward the window, “Good luck detective.”

The man sneered as he left. His posture was all bristling masculinity as he slammed the door behind him.

Harry startled at the harsh sound the door made when it connected with the frame, her eyes darkening until they seemed almost opaque. Then she blinked and the sudden darkness was gone almost as if it had never happened.

“Hello Detective,” she murmured. Her fingers scratched at the table, as she studied him. There was a slight curve to her lip, almost as if it was her first instinct to smile but had managed to refrain.

This did nothing to endear her to the detective. His face settled into a mulish expression as he regarded her. “Now Ms. Potter, we have an eyewitness statement saying that you attacked both Ms. Granger and Ms. Parkinson. Unfortunately, Ms. Parkinson did not survive, are you aware that you are being charged with murder and attempted murder?”

Harry shrugged, uncaring that she was no doubt going to jail. She had completed her mission. Nothing else mattered outside of that. However, she did take offense to the last charge.

Her nose scrunching up as she considered the detective, “I never tried to kill Hermione. I would never.”

Other than the disgruntled expression, there was nothing in her voice that suggested she was concerned with the line of questioning. The casual tone regarding the level of violence she had inflicted on her two companions enraged him.

His meaty hand slapped photographs of Pansy’s final pose onto the table. Her body was contorted as if several of her bones had been broken simultaneously. There was a gaping hole in her chest where her heart should have been. The murder had been cruel and painful, that much was clear. The murder weapon itself was missing but it was obvious who had committed the crime. Especially when one considered the cold indifference in the woman’s green eyes.

Carefully, Harry picked up the picture, her finger tracing the harsh lines that death had forced upon the other ballerina. “It’s a shame really. She had such potential. She was never as good as me, but she couldn’t help herself but to pretend. Always screaming and yelling about how she deserved the top spot, and that we were nothing, that _I _was nothing. Perhaps with more practice she could have come close, but not anymore. She’ll never dance again,” Harry whispered. Her head fell back as she laughed.

Tears suddenly appeared in her eyes as relief filled her. Her laughter echoing back through the interrogation room until an ungodly cackle was all that could be heard. The sound grew louder and louder even though Harry’s vocal cords remained at the same octave.

The effect created goosebumps on everyone who was listening. The air grew colder as green faded into darkness once more.

A sense of fear and disgust filled the detective as he watched her lose it. He had a look of utter loathing upon his face as she was left alone again.

But none of it mattered in the grander scheme of things; she had done it. Tom would be so proud.

Anger still coursing through him, the detective rounded on Hermione. “Now just what are you playing at girl. There is something else at work here and I think you know way more than you are telling. What just happened in that room is not normal. I think it’s time for us to have a little talk about you and the favors that you are calling in.”

Hermione shrugged, “It’s a bit above your pay grade detective. You should know better than most that only a privileged few really know what’s going on in the world. Otherwise both of us would not be here. It’s your job to solve crime, and this one has been handed to you. I suggest you finish your investigation quickly.”

He growled and took a step forward before stopping, the knowledge of who she was despite her age giving him pause. “Even if it doesn’t end up on my report, I deserve to know what is going on. Now, you can tell me, or I can take a little longer to book her. After all, we are still missing the murder weapon as you well know.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione smiled, “I don’t think you quite understand me Detective. She’s broken, her humanity fractured. Harry was always like a star, shining brightly for all to admire. That’ll change soon, and you’ll never be able to keep her caged. She was always caged, and she hated it. That’s what brought us here. Sometimes the devil whispers such sweet promises you begin to believe that life is not worth living alone.”

“You talk as if angels and demons really exist.”

“But don’t they detective? People do horrible things to each other every day. Could it not be possible that they exist as an example of the weakness of man? Evil is never born; it is created, and a pure soul is the most desirable of victims. Harry was one of those souls, but not any more.”

She shrugged, a sad expression overtaking her as she stared at her friend through the glass. “I have known her for years. Not always as a friend but I have watched her, and I had hoped that she would never be swayed by whispers and false promises.

“She’s not the same now, I can see it even if you can’t. It’s in her eyes. They used to be so warm but now they are cold. She’ll never be that girl again, and it is such a shame I couldn’t save her. She had such potential really. I don’t know if you ever saw her dance detective, but she had a kind of magic. It used to surround you and demand you watch her - love her.

“Now that magic is no longer hers when she dances, it comes from somewhere else and it’s inside her wanting to be free. I’ll miss that about her, that magic. I wonder if she’ll keep dancing or if that part of her life is over. I know it’s against the rules Detective, but please - can I, can I see her one last time? I need to talk to her before she’s gone.”

The detective frowned; the way the girl spoke made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was as if she knew way more than she was telling - as if she was older than fifteen. He was reluctant to go against her, but he felt it crucial that he impart the dangers of violating any more rules. “It would endanger the case to let you in there.”

Hermione laughed, “The case is already in danger. Every moment she sits there is just proof of the folly of man. You will never be able to keep her behind bars. There is something else at work here Detective. I just wish to say goodbye to my best friend.”

With a sad smile she moved past him to open the door, and he made no move to stop her. Instead moving to observe the conversation closely.

Even though she had seen the handcuffs chaining Harry’s wrists to the table through the window, the sight up close still made Hermione’s heart constrict. It was odd to see the straightness of her spine and the flush to her cheeks. It was such a contrast to what she had seen the last time they’d been together.

Harry might have been driven insane, but the fruition of her madness had given her body life again. The price her soul had paid on the other hand… the damage had yet to be seen.

A sliver of shock went through her as Harry smiled at her. The expression twisting until Hermione felt she was viewing her friend through bars. There was something shuttered in her face that broke Hermione’s heart. It was obvious that there was some growing level of mistrust between them.

It raked at her, Harry had attacked her and sinned against God and yet she was the one feeling guilty. The lies she told to grow closer to Harry burned in her chest. She felt oddly close to tears and she hated it.

The self-hatred was growing hotter as Harry finally spoke. “It’s good to see you, I’m glad you’re alright.” Her eyes took in Hermione’s injuries as if she could see beneath the bandages.

“Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

Harry laughed. It was a familiar sound. It caused a pitiful flare of warmth inside her and reminded her of nights sharing a couch and a sense of home. Hermione couldn’t help but choke on a sob as Harry shook her head. The words coming from her mouth made her feel worse, as if her betrayal was the worst thing that had befallen them.

“Because I love you, you’re my friend. Two halves of the same coin so to speak. Your destiny was to stop me, and mine was to keep trying. I would never deny the world your presence. It’s a gift that I treasured greatly, and I would go to the ends of the world to ensure your safety.”

Her smile widened and the shuttered expression disappeared completely. “Plus, Tom told me you have a greater destiny than what you’ve been led to believe. You’ll do great things Mione, some in my name, some in yours but you’ll be brilliant. This is always how it was supposed to be.”

The tears were flowing freely now, her voice wavering under the force of her emotions, “There is nothing for me now, I’ve failed. I won’t have a family, I won’t have a home, and I won’t have you.”

Harry shook her head, her hair coming undone from the neat bun she’d forced it into. “I’ll always be your home if you want to find me, and you won’t be alone, I promise. You’ll be prima ballerina now. I promise, there won’t be a child in the world who won’t know your name. Consider it a gift for everything you’ve given me. Now come here~”

Even though logic warred against it, Hermione obeyed. The sudden heaviness to the air between them, driving her forward until she was standing as close to Harry as she could get.

Instantly, Harry surged upward, her hands grabbing Hermione’s head as the handcuffs fell from her wrists. Their foreheads clinking together, making Harry laugh softly. “You’re going to be famous Hermione; everyone will know your name and you will want for nothing. You will never be alone, I promise. I’ll always be there when you need me and so will Blaise. I meant what I said about you two; you’d be beautiful together and it’s time you got rid of Draco. He’s only holding you back. You have so much to offer to the world, you just need to believe in yourself.”

Her grin stretched impossibly further, eyes brightening until they seemed to glow. A blackness slipped from her fingers to slowly creep up her arms as she continued holding Hermione.

There was a tingling sensation to her face that made Hermione stumble backwards. The pain that had served as a reminder of her failure disappeared.

As Harry was dragged away from her, still laughing, Hermione trembled. Somehow her wounds were healed, and she longed to follow wherever Harry led.

In that moment she discovered how easily she could be swayed. If Tom had been half as good as Harry was, it was no wonder that Harry had fallen for his promises.

Hermione couldn’t blame her friend for succumbing. After all, hadn’t she as well?

She felt her faith around her throat. She still believed in God and in his love, but she also believed in Harry and in that moment, that warmed her more than her faith. In that moment, she felt like she could have both.


	7. Chapter 7

As Harry was led away, there was an unusual pep in her step. She didn’t mind the manhandling or the tightness of the guard’s grip. She could feel bruises appearing on her skin, but it left her unfazed. The conversation with Hermione had left her in a good mood. The sadness she had sensed from the other girl was worrisome, but she had no doubt that everything would work out just fine. After all, Tom had promised.

Her mission had been a success. She could still feel the rush of adrenaline humming beneath her skin. She had taken a life and thus a life would be given. That was the way of the Old Gods and that was what had been promised.

Not even the loudness that surrounded her could darken her mood. She was content to close her eyes and listen as she was guided through the halls. From what she could tell, there weren’t many sharing this section of the police station’s holding cells.

Her mouth curled into a grin as the noise lowered drastically. Her eyes opened lazily as she took in the dimming lights. Harry was unsure if the lessened brightness was intended to set a melancholy mood or if it was simply to allow prisoners the chance to sleep better, but she welcomed the change. Either way, she highly doubted those that ran the station cared much about the prisoners’ comfort outside of their constitutional rights.

Her assumption was proven correct as her guard tossed her into a cell without care. The loud clang of the gate startled her briefly as she regained her footing. Her life's work had been ensuring a quickness on her feet, a bored officer wasn’t going to bring her to her knees.

Harry Potter bowed to no none.

So, she merely smiled at the man as he turned to leave. “Have a good night officer,” she commented as he walked away, the lights flickering briefly while he ignored her.

There was very little sound in this section. A few cells down there was the telltale scuffles of something shifting on an unyielding cot but the noise didn’t beg for her attention. Instead, her eyes were drawn to the partial obscured moon that tempted her through the small barred window to her left.

Green eyes were transfixed as she sank to the ground. Her smile widened as she felt to cool beams caressing her face, her hand flexing against the handcuffs on her wrists. After her visit with Hermione had been prematurely ended, they had forced them back on. Her skin chafed as they had increased their tightness in the hopes of preventing her escaping them once more.

Their efforts were futile since no mortal bonds could hold her anymore. But they didn’t know that, silly mortals. Hermione had tried to warn them, the sweet thing she was, but rarely did men listen.

As she sat there in silence, she closed her eyes and listened, her focus partially on her cuffs. Her lips twitched as they dropped with a soft clink against the unforgiving ground. The knowledge that she could leave at any time warmed her, but still she sat and waited.

The moon was her only company as the night grew darker and the air heavier. It felt rich and lazy against her skin; as if begging her to melt into the air and disappear, but she merely smiled and shook her head. It wasn’t time yet. She had waited a thousand lives for this, she could wait a few more hours if need be.

_There._

The air trembled, making way for someone to bend reality to their whim.

Happiness exploded in her chest as she glanced over, her eyes feasting on her promised lover. He stood tall and dark in the shadows. His eyes red as he watched her silently. As he blended with the shadows, they warped giving the impression of horns but as he stepped into the moonlight they were gone.

Harry refused to doubt her eyes. A vision of Tom with eyes of fire and dark horns stretching regally toward the Heavens in casual defiance caused desire to pool hotly in her belly. It caused her cheeks to flush as she continued watching him in silence.

There was no need for words because everything that had been needed to be spoken had been spoken. She had made her choice and now it was time for her to take her rightful place.

As Tom crossed the distance between them, he smiled, his lips curling back to expose too sharp teeth. Some might have considered the sight terrifying, but to Harry, it was breathtaking. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she continued looking up at him.

He was utter perfection; her dreams had done him a disservice. How could the world consider someone so beautiful, evil? As she continued staring, her heart ached to be closer, to feel his touch against her skin, his hips between her thighs, and his cock inside her. The handcuffs she had let slip off her wrist were looking more attractive by the second.

With her thoughts growing heated, the remaining distance between them seemed almost too much. It felt like a thousand lifetimes that separated them and her memory of his hands forcing her into submission. Her body yearned for him and he answered.

His knees bent as he crouched in front of her, his lips coming to press against her brow. A telltale tingling there as the mark she had carved into Pansy’s forehead took its rightful place beneath his lips.

Another gasp escaped her as his fingers intertwined with hers. Pulling her into him as his lips descended down her nose to taste her.

There was a hunger in her that made her ravenous for more. Her nails digging desperately into his flesh as she was pulled to her feet; her body moving closer as his arms curled around her. One hand was poised tightly against her hip as the other curled around the nape of her neck.

A soft tune filled the air as he turned her. Their bodies moved in tandem to a melody only they could hear. Harry could feel him hard against her hip, his grip tight as if he was afraid to give her any space to breathe.

She was lost in the moment, utterly enthralled by the way he felt against her. Tom had stopped kissing her but the moment their eyes locked, the air seemed to grow heavier with their desire. The simple action of their eyes meeting seemed an intensely more intimate act than anything they had ever shared in their past lives.

The circle was complete, and he was proud of her.

As his lips descended once more, she moaned into his mouth. Her body swayed out of tune with the music as she gave into her craving for him. Her hand curled into his hair, touching where she knew his horns would be.

The room spun as he continued to move them in time with the heartbreaking melody inside their heads.

A groan escaped as he pulled her tighter against him. Every atom of her being focused on the way he tasted, and the way he felt against her. The world melted away from her as his touch grew heavier, the air seeming to suffocate her with its weighty demands on her lungs.

Her eyes fluttered shut as everything disappeared.

A soft laugh slipped free as they escaped her cage; the air shimmered as they too faded, leaving nothing in their wake but the remnants of a soft tune that slowly died out along with their memory.


End file.
